The secret potion I revealed several months ago has proven a great success, in terms of interested visitors from around the world. And the world should rejoice, for yet another formula has recently come to me in a vision. Preliminary testing is complete.
Tequila Mockingbird (serves 4-6)
Dried & roasted hot chili peppers 4-5 or to taste
Lime juice 500ml
Sugar 4 tblsps or to taste
Salt 2 tspns to mix in
Coarse salt enough to rime the rim of the glass
Crushed ice Whatever it takes
Preparation. Pour the tequila into a small saucepan (the smaller the surface area exposed, to a point, the less alcohol lost to the atmosphere). Pour gently so as not to offend the ancient spirits of the Aztecs by bruising this much under-rated liquor. Add the dried chili peppers. Only now should you turn on the heat, gradually warming the mixture till it’s about to simmer. As soon as you notice tiny bubbles ascending, turn the heat down slightly. Coddle the chilies for 3 minutes. Then turn the heat way up, watching carefully till you spot the first enthusiastic bubbles. Turn the heat off immediately and let the mixture sit for a few seconds. Remove the chilis and pour the liquid into pre-warmed old-fashioned glasses.
Administering it. Gaze mindfully at the elixir for a moment. Then andale, andale before it cools, slam it straight down the hatch. You can mutter ai cariba if you like. Clutch a handful of crushed ice to your forehead.
This next part is important. Don’t stop to wipe at your eyes (especially if you’ve been handling the chilis). Don’t say anything more. Just reach for the chaser and shoot it back, but don’t swallow any of it till you’ve swished it around a bit. Gargle if you feel like it. Then swallow.
Review the situation. Do you feel transformed? Or should you prepare another dose right away?
Post-elixir discipline. Adopt a secure and comfortable position where you can remain awake and alert while you attend mindfully to the ensuing mental, physical and, quite possibly, spiritual sensations. Recall the ying and yang of hot on your palate and cold on your forehead. Reflect on the persistent burr in mouth and throat, the sense of heightened preparedness for whatever other novelties your adjacent future might hold in store.
Consider the notion that, if the first dose has done this much good, a second dose therefore ought to be twice as beneficial. Hold this idea firmly in mind as you reflect on its sources and likely karmic effects, as well as on what your mother always told you about not being such a jackass.
Don’t try to operate heavy equipment for some hours after partaking of this stuff. Neither should you perform Morris dancing on icy surfaces.
After you opt for that second dose, reflect extra mindfully, with whatever mind remains at your disposal, on the potential merits of a third shot. You should wait at least half an hour, and possibly until your mother contacts you, before doing anything rash. If you’ve adopted a post-elixir meditative position higher than the floor, don’t fall off it.
Tests in progress. I have no formal medical training, and accept no liability for unforeseen consequences of imbibing this particular potion. But see the following comments from people who engaged in clinical trials at our dinner party last night:
“It’s good.” (The charming Carmen, a woman of keenly developed sensibilities and much discernment.)
“It’s making my throat burn.” (Ken, Carmen’s husband, an experienced journalist and editor with finely honed observational faculties.)
“I think I see something!” (Susan, novelist and connoisseur.)
“I don’t believe we can judge adequately from just one of these.” (Brad, Susan’s husband, a vastly experienced journalist and by nature a careful man. Inspired by the elixir itself, Brad immediately dubbed this potion “Tequila Mockingbird”. And so it shall be called.)
“Hm.” (My Sara, her expression suggesting, to me at least, that she no longer thought I was quite the idiot she suspected I must be when first I proposed this concoction.)
All experimental subjects have reported in alive this morning, and claim to be enjoying this fine winter’s day in Bangkok, though they are reluctant to attribute the excellent weather itself to T. Mockingbird.
Clinical trials are ongoing. In the meantime, both Jeff the Giant Anthropologist and Bill the Mathematician agree that therapeutic effects might well include the triggering of endorphins by the capsaicin in the chili peppers, while the alcohol surely opens the capillaries and pores and things to that and all manner of other beneficial effects emanating from both your internal and external environments (potentially, e.g., the auras of people who earlier seemed less attractive). The vitamin C in the lime can’t hurt, while the combination of salt and sugar tastes good, especially to people accustomed to drinking Thai nam menow, the refreshing local lime juice concoction. Both the acid in the lime and the salt also react chemically to help neutralize the chili heat. (Reduce the salt in proportion to the extent you’ve been living in Thailand or maybe Mexico and hence wish to conserve the chili heat, addicted as you are to the accompanying endorphin rush.)
Do not drive a vehicle under the influence of this potion. Don’t even think about it.
Pale precursors to T. Mockingbird, I discover, include “Devils Water” seven pepper-infused tequila, although this is neither prepared over heat nor served hot.
I love this compendium of tequila’s therapeutic effects. (No doubt you’ve all heard it before; it has been floating around the Web for a year or two.)